Visits
by themissinggenius
Summary: Dr. Lecter sees Clarice out shopping and invites her to dinner. Post-SoTL. Multichapter/Incomplete. Rated teen for language.
1. The First

The deli department at the Giant in Arlington always had an impossibly large line. Dr. Hannibal Lecter quickly paced up to the Take-a-Number and audibly sighed when his ticket read 76. The bright neon sign above the meat counter flashed 52. Choosing to pace around the store and pick up the other necessary items for his dinner rather than stand in line and wait, he moved to produce. Within a minute, he was in full view of his Starling. Her cart was empty, save for the bottle of Jack Daniels in the child's seat of the cart and the oranges she was piling in as he watched her. Clarice evidently had not noticed the doctor, for after weighing her oranges and placing them in the cart next to the whiskey, she walked away in the opposite direction. Doctor Lecter had known she would be here; he had been watching her for several weeks before finally daring to set up his evening's plans and join her in the supermarket. It would be awhile until Clarice was finished shopping; her list and book of coupons was enormous. Lecter returned to the deli after picking up bell peppers and a few other ingredients. His shopping was completed, or it almost was, as the blinking sign currently read 60. He watched as a young man stepped up to the counter, holding the #60 ticket, and required a lengthy explanation of what the difference between salami and pepperoni was. Dr. Lecter considered bashing his head against the glass containing the meats, but reconsidered after realizing how much attention that would draw.

As he waited, he caught glimpses of Clarice. While her perception was admirable, the doctor was confident she wasn't looking for him nor was she thinking about him. There was no need to reveal himself yet. He continued waiting. 66. After another half an hour of standing uselessly around, Dr. Lecter was finally called. Without hesitation, he made his selections and headed for the checkout. In his peripheral vision, Starling seemed to be considering whether to buy Lean Cuisine Swedish Meatballs or Chicken Marsala when she looked up and saw him.

Starling was used to this by now. It had been over three years since she had shot Jame Gumb, three years since to her rise to fame, and two since her downfall. A position in Behavioral Science was never close within her reach, and it was in times like this, when she was exhausted and alone, that she saw him. He'd never talk to her, or stop to say hello. The cannibal was there for a second, she'd feel an intake of her breathe, and within the second he was gone, replaced with some random. It was bad enough that she was hallucinating, but he was also in her mind. Every decision Clarice would make, even the smallest, he was there with his terrifyingly true guidance. Agent Starling figured since Chicken Marsala was Italian, he'd prefer her to eat that. _Actually_ , she thought, _he would rather me eat something with some nutritional value_. It was then that she looked up and saw the doctor pushing his cart hurriedly to the checkout. _Wow, he actually looks like he has something to do. Maybe not so graceful after that deli line, huh, Doctor?_ Starling almost laughed at that thought.

He watched her as he passed, but she made no movement. She simply stood there and watched him. Even after reaching the checkout, he watched as she made no move to get her phone. Clarice picked up four Marsalas and one pack of Meatballs and threw them haphazardly into the cart. Was it possible that she didn't recognize him? _No, my disguise is good, but she would be able to see through it easily._ Had she really been this unalarmed by his presence? Dr. Lecter moved to the self checkout and paid for his groceries, before moving out of the store and to Starling's Pinto. He jimmied the door and placed his items in the trunk. Finally, the doctor moved to the passenger seat and waited.

The Doctor was still there. Clarice continued eyeing him until he paid for his food and left. She glanced down at her own cart. _If he really is here, hurry the fuck up, Starling. You can't miss him._ It took her all of thirty seconds to race through the same checkout Dr. Lecter had used and run out of the store. Looking around, he was nowhere in sight. She made for her car.

 _He's in there._

Starling reached for her phone as he caught her eye and winked. Her hand dropped to her side as she walked to the door of the car. She sat down in the driver's seat. Starling looked at him; his maroon gaze focused ahead. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it when he turned to her.

"Good evening, Clarice."

Starling's sense of courtesy nearly leaving her, seconds passed before she could manage, "Hello Dr. Lecter." She liked her voice. It sounded good, not as shaky as she felt. Starling ventured a few more words. "Why are you here, Doctor?"

"Was it not a pleasant surprise? I'll assume the FBI are on their way. That gives us only a few minutes."

Clarice stared ahead, confused for a moment. She had had quite a long day pushing papers and was looking forward to collapsing at home with the empty bottle of whiskey in her hand. "Oh, no. Doctor, I didn't call them." Clarice shifted in her seat to face him better.

The doctor made no movement but slightly raised his eyebrows. "I am truly surprised. Why?"

"I thought… we could talk. I could speak with you longer if I didn't bring them into this."

"Clarice…" he warned. "What have we said about lying, hmm?"

She waited before speaking. Her sentence came out small. Feeble. "I didn't really think it was you."

The man beside her was still, but his mind was racing. He had anticipating often occupying her thought, but the thought of her hallucinating never crossed his mind. Dr. Lecter was somewhere between concerned and amused when he smiled. "You've been seeing me a lot lately, then, have you? It's quite alright, Agent Starling, I've been seeing you often as well." He let the words sink in as his message became apparent to the girl. She started to speak, but the doctor continued. "You never responded to my letter, Clarice. I wonder, is it hidden away in a shoebox in your closet or in an evidence bag in the basements of Quantico? After three years without correspondence, surely I am justified in seeking out a friend. I've been enjoying my freedom, Agent Starling, but I missed our talks. Have you?"

The agent made no attempt at an answer. She put the keys into the ignition and backed out of the parking space. Dr. Lecter did not speak until they left the parking lot. "Where are we going, Clarice?"

"My house. We can talk about this there. I don't want anyone to see you." _Yet_ , she added silently.

"So concerned for my well-being? Very well. We had dinner plans already. The groceries are in the back." The car slowed to a stop; red light. Clarice turned to stare at the doctor, and then the back of the car. _How could I forget about the stuff he bought?_ Before the light could change, she brought herself to look at Dr. Lecter again. She tried to pierce him with her stare, but it proved ineffectual, as he offered only a grin back to her. _God fucking damn it, Doctor. Dinner, really?_

The rest of the ride to the duplex was spent in silence, with the exception of Starling inquiring about a ride home for the doctor other than in the back of a police car. He dismissed her questioning; his car had been parked about a half block from her house for over a week and she had given it no notice. Starling was contemplating how she would attempt to apprehend him while he was at liberty to all the knifes in her kitchen when they reached her house.

Ardelia's car was gone, and evidently she had not been back to the duplex all afternoon. The bills in the mailbox had not been touched. The pair had made it to the door, grocery bags in hand, when Lecter turned to her and spoke. "There's a dress waiting for you upstairs on your bed. I hope you find it suitable. I left shoes and jewelry there also. Help yourself to anything, and feel free to draw yourself a bath while I prepare dinner." At "dinner", Starling flinched. "While I'm not one to spoil the surprise, Clarice, I will assure you that whatever I cook for you has been bought at the deli counter today." Starling's shoulders relaxed a small amount as she opened the door. Leaving the bags on the island for the doctor, she turned to the stairs. Ascending, a call was heard from the kitchen, "Oh, and Clarice, your cellular has been temporarily disconnected from service, as with your house phones. I'm sorry for any inconvenience." She could hear his smirk as he spoke.

 _How the fuck could he disable my cell phone when he just assumed I called the police at the store?_ Clarice pulled her phone out of her purse and noticed the magnet stuck on the back. It wouldn't cause any permanent damage, but she'd have to buy her phone a new battery. He must of attached it while she was driving. With all hope of calling the police gone, Starling was left with two choices. She could run down the stairs with her gun and attempt to arrest him. As she thought it, she pushed the idea out of her head. Dr. Lecter liked her, sure, but an attempt to apprehend him on her own was suicide. The only other option was to have dinner. As much as Starling tried to resent the doctor, she kept reminding herself of the good things he had done. He had not killed her, for one. And, well, if he said the meat was from the store, it can't be that bad. He didn't go back on his word, she knew, and he had given her his word.

Clarice went to her room and saw the dress on the bed. Emerald green silk, short enough to be not very formal, but clearly expensive. A pair of Gucci heels, perfectly matching the dress, sat just below it on the floor. She sighed when she noticed the gold jewelry; the necklace rivaling her add-a-beads but much more intricate. Situated next to a pair of earrings was to some foreign make-up that was not hers, but beautifully corresponded with her skin tone. Ashamed as she did so, Starling silently aknowledged the Doctor's fine tastes.

Clarice went to turn on the water for the bath like the Doctor suggested when she thought of him, his now healthy skin becoming sallow and white in the dungeons of the insane asylum. His friendly countenance _\- still scary, though, Starling -_ being replaced by the sad smile she saw in Memphis.

Clarice blamed the cold air meeting her bare skin for the shudder that shook her body when she lowered herself into the tub.


	2. The First (Part II)

Starling took her time getting ready. Despite her initial reluctance to an evening with a serial killer, she grew used to the idea. _I can call the cops later, once that option is made available to me._ Still, the concept of her superiors finding out she did anything other than fight Dr. Lecter was not appealing. The battle back and forth continued as Clarice slipped her dress on and dried out her hair. Finally, as the aroma from the kitchen drifted up to her room, the need of pleasure made her decision easy. _Years and years of this bullshit - whether it be Paul Krendler, Noonan, or even Crawford, damn it, the FBI's killing me. One break - one fucking break - won't hurt. I won't let it._

Starling examined herself in the mirror. She wasn't vain and rarely even glanced at her hair before leaving for work, but, this evening, as she studied herself, she admitted: _I look pretty damn good._ The dress itself was revealing. More so, at least, than what she was used to. The neckline did not plunge, but it was sleeveless and had a nearly open back. It suited her curves quite well and reached just at her calves. The gold around her neck and in her shoes complimented her eyes.

 _It's like he's a fucking tailor or designer._ She remembered Krendler in the her in the basement of Quantico - the "Hannibal House" - insulting Dr. Lecter. Apparently there was no possibility of a man with taste unless he was a homosexual - Mr. Krendler went on curse the doctor while Starling could do nothing but listen. It infuriated to hear this, but any denial she made would only fuel the rumors.

Clarice's hair was still short from the years ago back in the dungeon, yet she was able to style it with considerable ease. A new bottle of L'Air Du Temps - her own was running low - sat on the sink, as well as several other creams and hair products she had never heard of. After a minimal amount of fussing (more for her own benefit than the doctor's, really; she rarely spoiled herself like this), she traveled downstairs.

Dr. Lecter had, evidently, cleaned himself up as well. As she entered the kitchen, Starling noticed the doctor's Armani suit and tie. It was no coincidence the tie was green and flecked with gold.

He turned from the counter as she approached, and welcomed her. "You look stunning, Clarice."

"Thank you, Dr. Lecter. Is the food ready yet?" She could almost curse herself for the drawl that slipped into her speech. If Lecter minded, he made no notice to it. And instead pushed several silver plates onto a food tray. _Has he been storing this in my house?_ Starling thought.

"Yes. Join me in the dining room, Agent?" She followed quickly behind him as he pulled out a chair for her. Seated, she watched him position two dishes in front of each table setting and take his place across from her.

"What are we having, Doctor?"

"Certainly not those Lean Cuisines you picked up. Although, Clarice, it was incredibly ironic when you chose the Marsala over those meatballs. I had planned for Venison Marsala. I did not account enough time for a full meal, so two courses will have to do."

Suddenly, Starling's eyes widened. The mention of time had reminded her of Ardelia. Dr. Lecter seemed to register this immediately, and simply stated, "Ms. Mapp will not be joining us this evening. She is currently preoccupied."

Clarice, who hadn't yet taken a bite of her food, felt the strong urge to vomit. " _What_ did you do to her?" She felt the self-control she maintained so well around him leave. "Doctor Lecter, I swear to…"

He held up a hand for her to stop, and she did so immediately. It was as if another force had taken over. "I promise you, Agent Starling, your roommate is in no harm's way. In fact, quite the opposite. Her boyfriend," he almost winced at the term, "has a beautiful night planned for the two of them. I assure you you will see neither for awhile. Now please, enjoy your food." Clarice wasn't sure whether to be pleased or disappointed that her fellow agent wouldn't walk in on her dinner date with one of the FBI's most wanted.

Starling, once again watching her manners, began to eat. "This is absolutely delicious." She took another bite, chewed, and swallowed before speaking. "Doctor, thank you."

"It is my pleasure. Now I'd like to know two things. The first concerning why you haven't contacted the police yet, the second with your current standing within the F.B.I, as well as if the two are, in your opinion, related. What do you think, Clarice?" Her name came out nearly a hiss, but was met with a small smile. There were no cruel intentions.

"Doctor Lecter, it might have been years since we've spoken, but I'm well aware that any attempt for me to arrest you would have been met painfully. My phones don't work and, frankly, I'd much rather enjoy a nice meal with you than die."

Dr. Lecter smiled at the implication he would kill her. She was bright, his Starling, but she had not yet come to realize he would never hurt her, unless absolutely necessary. He considered her words, and listened eagerly as she continued, "As for my relations with the FBI, you know where I stand. You've been watching me, you said it yourself. Things aren't great, Doctor, but you know that. You just want me to admit it." He smiled. Lecter was enjoying himself now, and his clever Clarice was a source of amusement. He found her agitation more than endearing, and therefore did not interrupt her as she continued. "Isn't that right, Doctor Lecter?" her tone softened. "I didn't try to escape or beat you over the head with a candlestick tonight specifically because I enjoyed your company in the asylum, regardless of how much you frightened me. I'll enjoy speaking with you tonight, too. I'll learn some truth about myself and have something to cry about tomorrow morning while filing background checks." _It is remarkable_ , the Doctor thought, _how she is so intuitive about my ambitions as well as her own, and yet she remains loyal to the institution that she knows will bring her downfall._ He smiled at her again. Before he had gone to the market to meet her, he had considered what precautions must be taken had Clarice not responded so willingly. Handcuffs and binds currently inhabited her kitchen cabinet, but it appeared the doctor wouldn't be needing them. _Well..._

"How very astute, Clarice. I find it a great surprise that you've come to welcome our chats so soon; without glass, without bars."

Starling had yet to think of this. While she had some fear of what he could do to her, he had sworn he wouldn't hurt her. She trusted Lecter more than she would like to admit. "Sorry if I seemed brash, but I think it's necessary to get that out of the way."

"Agent Starling, it's perfectly acceptable. I am pleased with what you've come to recognize so far. Tell me more."

"With all due respect, Doctor, no." She leaned forward in her seat. Neither had touched their food in minutes. "I thought we were operating on a quid pro quo basis. I want to know why you chose now, of all times, to contact me."

"Of course, we'll resume our game," he stated. "As I said in the car, I had time to enjoy my freedom. I haven't seen your name in the papers in quite awhile, so I decided to visit. Your current standing is no different than what I had expected.

"Agent Starling, don't you believe you are capable of much more than drug busts and paperwork? I don't see how you couldn't. I've seen, in our limited time together, how much you are capable of. Why are you investing it in a place that despises you?" Finally, Dr. Lecter cut a piece of his venison and took a bite. The tension of his words was lifted somewhat by the continuation of their meal.

"If you're anticipating I'm going to leave the FBI after this _enlightening_ ," she drew out the word, copying his tone of voice nearly perfectly, "I'm afraid you're mistaken. Dr. Lecter, things will get better. If they don't, I'll find a way."

"Clarice, I will never attempt to predict you, or anticipate your actions. If you can recall, I once mentioned that it would be something to know you in private life. In my presence here, I am not attempting to persuade you, merely acting on the words I spoke in the dungeon so long ago."

"You said you wouldn't call on me," she stated. Clarice attempted to match Dr. Lecter's gaze in intensity, but failed. It came to be more of an accusatory glance, trying to remain stubborn, yet showing her lack of fight. "Clearly you weren't telling me the truth."

"Did I harm you in anyway, Agent Starling? I was only attempting to assuage your fears of me coming to hurt you after my escape. Were you disappointed or relieved to find I wouldn't contact you at all for several years?" he paused, allowing her time to consider. "From this conversation, I take it relieved. I'm sorry for that, Clarice. I simply wanted to chat." Dr. Lecter's food was just about finished, while Starling still had quite a bit left. As she was still trying a response to his question, he asked, "Would you like me to heat that up for you, my dear? We've been talking quite a bit." He didn't wait for an answer as he turned to the kitchen.

Within two minutes, Lecter was back at the table. Clarice had managed what she thought, at least, was a decent reply. "I wanted you to be there, and yet not. I was so tired of hearing your voice in my head…" she stopped and looked up. "But I'm not sure if I was tired of you, or the constant replaying of your words. I always - I had to -imagine your responses to my actions, instead of hearing them directly. I think, in that sense, I wanted you back." He nodded as she spoke.

"That's promising." For a moment, they sat in silence. Clarice ate the remainder of her meal while the doctor simply watched.

By the conclusion of dinner, Starling decided she was in to position to call the police. She couldn't get her _friends_ from the FBI to come and help - like hell they'd listen to her. She settled on helping the doctor clean up the table before retiring to the living area she shared with Ardelia. Dr. Lecter followed her shortly, positioning himself not on the seat opposite the couch, but rather next to her. A good three feet of space separated them. Hannibal made no move to close the gap. They sat in silence for several minutes, Clarice's eyes always on the leather chair across from her, and Lecter's always on Clarice. Finally, she spoke. "What now, Doctor?"

"Besides your troubles with your superiors at work, are there any other issues pressing your mind?" A simple shake of the head, Starling felt, alleviated most of his suspicion otherwise. She hadn't been feeling much at all lately, so it technically wasn't a lie. Lecter's lips turned upward just the slightest bit, a hint of a smile, and he nodded. "Okay, then. It appears I'll have to find some other form of entertainment next time I come. Maybe some music, Clarice. Do you play?" He refused to pause for an answer, then, and instead took her hand. "Goodnight, Clarice." His mouth just brushed her hand. Cream and coral. Hannibal inhaled. "See you soon, my dear."

Dr. Lecter left Starling on the couch, palms massaging her forehead, with the promise of another visit soon. Clarice swore.


End file.
